


Things We Don't Talk About

by violentredstrider



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Human Experimentation, Kidnapping, Multi, Psychological Trauma, Scars, Telepath Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2017-12-30 19:12:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violentredstrider/pseuds/violentredstrider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Now, all these years later, the entire pack was gathered in the Stilinski family home, all standing around the kitchen watching the candles melt and burn down on a cake that wouldn't be eaten. No one ever blew out the candles either; they always just let them melt down to nothing. Maybe it was because they just kept waiting for Stiles to walk through that front door and take his place at the table and blow them out himself."<br/>---<br/>The night Gerard kidnapped Stiles from the lacrosse game, Stiles never came home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Missing

**Author's Note:**

> So thats the first chapter and phew that took a while to write.
> 
> A few things you might want to know or I have a feeling someone might get confused about.
> 
> * Stiles has been missing for three years (just in case my use of four years of birthdays and three years of missing confused anyone because I'm sure it will I know I'd be confused about that shit)
> 
> * Obviously I made a few cannon changes, Jackson stayed, Aiden and Ethan aren't alphas, yada yada, I also messed with the time line a little for the last of the second season. Since I needed Stiles' time in the Argent house to be a little bit longer then just a few hours. So yeup. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed it~<3

It was April eighth, today was Stiles Stilinski's nineteenth birthday. Just four years prior, and no one would have really paid much special attention to the day or the fact that is was someone's birthday. Four years prior the day was only noticed by the birthday boy himself, along with his Father and his best friend borderline brother. Four years ago was the last actual birthday that Stiles had celebrated, because it wasn't even a full year later that Stiles had vanished, a few months shy of his seventeenth birthday.

Ever since the overly sarcastic and fidgety teen had disappeared, the day had become a sort of event for many. A day to remember and mourn is nothing else. The pack refused to let the day go by ignored. They refused to ignore the loss and memory of one who was so dear to them, but was only so dear after he was gone and they had the time to realize just how much of a pillar he was in many of their lives. He had brought something to each and every one of them, a smile, a laugh, friendship, knowledge, kindness, and understanding. That was how they all viewed him now, fondly and without an ill feeling towards him as they once had.

Those who had once scowled at his presence now desperately craved it, they found that the silence was suffocating and no one knew quite how to fill it like Stiles had once been able to. They all felt guilty for what had happened. A bit guilty at how they treated him, ignored him, growled at him, screamed at him when he just wanted to help, and mostly they felt guilty for not being kinder to him when they had the chance, not letting him know what they really thought and felt of him. But it was too late for guilt, they knew that, but it still slept within them, baring its fangs whenever he was mentioned or something reminded them of him.

\----

It had been three years ago, at the Beacon Hills High school lacrosse game. Stiles had been actually put in the game for the first time. His father had been on the stands screaming that that was his son! His son that was playing the field like never before, his son that had scored the winning goal. His son that had disappeared when the lights had gone out, his son that everyone forgot about in the midst of Jackson's mysterious injury and false death.

John Stilinski had stayed up all night and the next night not only searching for his son, but sending out amber alerts and missing person's reports and gathering search teams. Scott had tried finding Stiles by scent, but to no avail. Derek and Peter had even stepped in to help, Peter was the one to pinpoint Gerard and Stiles' scent on the field, and how it was intermingled. They would have spent more time trying to search out the scent, but things started to come to a head.

They faced Gerard down at a warehouse, after having taken Jackson from the hospital while he was still in his cocooned state. When the old man had showed Scott was the one to demand to know where Stiles was. Of course Gerard wasn't going to tell them that easily.

"What makes you think I'm the one who took him? Maybe he simply got scared and ran away." Gerard had let out a dry laugh to the accusations.

"Don't play dumb! We know it was you who took him, your scent was mixed with his at the field." Surprisingly, this time it was Derek who spoke. Derek wasn't one many would pin for worrying about Stiles, or even being mildly interested in the boy. But this time Derek seemed to actually care about whatever had happened to Stiles.

"Pure coincidence, there were at least a hundred people there that night; I might have just simply stood where the boy once had." All those in the warehouse couldn't deny the logic, but they weren't so deterred, they all knew of Gerard's tricks and how easy it was for him to lie, even to a pack of wolves. "Besides, what would I want with a human boy when my plans were already well under way? The Stilinski boy is and was of no use or interest to me." Gerard's words once again wanted to make since in the wolves minds, but once again they refused to think he had nothing to do with this.

Before the questioning could go further the Kanima attacked, the battle that ensued led to Jackson's almost death, and Gerard's escape. And with Gerard, went every possible clue they had to finding Stiles.

\-----

Within the span of the next few weeks the pack spent time healing and getting things in order. Jackson stayed in Beacon Hills and joined the Hale pack as did Scott and Lydia. While Lydia was technically human, it wasn't unheard of or forbidden for her to be part of the pack. Sometime during the following weeks Erica and Boyd showed back up, bloodied and tired. They slept for what seemed like days before they finally spoke about what happened.

They recounted how they had been tricked by the hunters and taken captive after a rather nasty run in with Allison, who had almost managed to kill Boyd. They then told of how Chris Argent allowed them to escape and why they had waited a few weeks to come back. They had been worried they wouldn't be accepted back or even attacked by the pack for being runaways. After they had apologized profusely to Derek and had been reassured they were forgiven and back in the pack, that was when Erica brought up Stiles.

"Is Stiles okay?" She asked as she glanced up at the pack that surrounded her and Boyd, all of them gathered in the living room of Derek's new loft.

Everyone grew a bit more on edge and tense at the mention of Stiles, the room instantly filled with apprehension as if waiting for Erica to give them the world's secrets. Erica looked around at each of them for a moment wondering why they had all become so still before she shared a confused look with Boyd. Peter was the one to finally break the silence.

"Stiles has been missing for the past four weeks. No one has seen him since the last lacrosse game." Peter spoke as he crossed his arms and shifted his standing position.

"What? But Stiles was there, with us, we heard him." Erica spoke slowly.

"Why didn't you tell us that in the first place?!" Scott suddenly burst out. His fists were clenched at his sides and his jaw twitched. They had been right, Gerard had taken Stiles. He could still be at the house, locked away somewhere, forgotten and left behind, possibly dead by now.

"We thought that they had let him go. He was only there for about two days; we just figured they had released him since they can't exactly kill another human being, especially one that looks like an innocent kid. It's against their code, or something like that." Boyd spoke up looking rather sternly at Scott, not really liking the way Scott had blame woven in his tone.

"If you hadn't noticed Gerard didn't exactly follow the code." Scott snipped out.

Lydia decided to cut them short there, "just tell us everything you know about the time Stiles was there." She was far more interested in actually helping Stiles rather than standing around playing the blame game.

"They never brought Stiles into the basement, where we were being held. They kept him upstairs in one of the rooms just above us. The first night he was there we could hear him talking with Gerard, well more like flapping his gums until Gerard beat the shit out of him. It was pretty bad sounding…. Stiles was begging him to stop by the end of it." Erica looked just about anywhere except at the pack while she spoke. "On the second day he was talking with Gerard again, but it was hard to hear them though due to the electricity being pumped into us. But we managed to hear the end of the conversation. Gerard came to some sort of conclusion that Stiles was a…. Spark; yeah that was it, a spark. Gerard sounded weird when he was talking about it, like he should have known sooner, or like he was pleased to know."

Boyd continued from there. "After that Gerard and Stiles didn't speak anymore. Sometime in the night Stiles was taken away in some kind of vehicle. That was the last we heard of him, not even the hunters watching us said anything about it. Neither did Chris Argent when he came and let us out. So we figured if he didn't bring it up, then Stiles must have just been let go."

The room was quiet for a moment, everyone trying to work out the storm of new information in their minds.

"Spark… Deaton had said that Stiles had a spark in him, that's how he was able to lay out the mountain ash when we had the Kanima trapped in that club." Scott recalled, he was tapping his foot, trying to somehow connect things that simply didn't want to connect in his mind.

"Yes, but that doesn't help us understand what happened to Stiles. And there isn't enough information to figure out exactly why Gerard was so intrigued by the fact." Derek responded, his eyebrows were knitted together in thought and his arms crossed over his chest. He looked much the same as Scott did, frustrated at his own inability to figuree it all out.

"Honestly it's a wonder at even why that fact interested him. A Spark isn't all that uncommon, just about anyone can have a Spark. One just has to believe enough and it just… Well Sparks. It really isn't anything special at all, so it shouldn't be a wonder to Gerard whether Stiles had one or not." Peter added.

By the end of the little meeting no one was any closer to figuring anything out. Derek finally called it a day and sent everyone either home or just plain somewhere else. That night not many got to sleep soundly. All with heavy thoughts of Stiles on their minds.

\-----

Over the next couple of months things grew and changed and became a mess and then straightened out again. The Alpha pack rolled into town shortly after the school year started. After an entire summer or non-stop searching for Stiles, the pack was already exhausted. The entrance of the Alpha pack did nothing to help their situation. But somehow, by some miracle they all managed to make it out more or less alright.

The Alpha pack was reduced to mere ashes, Deucalion made off after having his eyesight return. Aiden and Ethan switched to the Hale pack, losing their Alpha rank in the process but not really bothered by it. Lydia turned out to be a Banshee, which no one was exactly clear on what it exactly was except that when she screamed everyone on the supernatural radar managed to hear it loud and clear. And then there was the fact that being a Banshee granted some kind of vague 'fortune telling' abilities as Scott referred to the gift. It wasn't official, but seeing as how Lydia had known about the Nematon before the end of it all, then they were just charting it up as visions of the future.

During all this time Danny had been slowly brought into the pack, learning about the supernatural when he'd accidentally walked in on Jackson half shifted. Danny had somewhat replaced Stiles as the friendly researching human of the pack. But it still wasn't the same.

By the end of the first year of Stiles' disappearance the pack was thirteen strong and things were slowly starting to get easier for them. For long periods of time they could go without something supernatural trying to kill them. As for the subject of Stiles, nothing ever got easier. Those who didn't know him personally didn't understand how he was important enough to matter so much to the pack. Why it all pained them so much just when someone mentioned the boy's name. Cora had brought it up at a pack meeting once at the pleading of the curious twins. But she had been brushed off rather harshly by Derek who had told her to "just drop it!"

Things didn't get easier as one year turned to two which quickly turned to three. Some of the pack members tried to move on while others never stopped looking. Scott spent most of his days and nights looking for just about anything along with Allison, who had been accepted into the pack after spending a year redeeming herself. Lydia didn't openly search for Stiles; she was mystified about the entire thing. Some days she would faintly wonder about what Stiles might have been doing at that very moment, while her nights were often times plagued by dreams of Stiles. Of finding him standing out in the middle of the woods, in her dreams she would always ask him the same thing.

"Is it raining?" She never knew why she would always ask this. She always wanted to ask different things, especially when she was aware she was dreaming. But every time she opened her mouth the same thing would fall out. Stiles would always reply to the question with the same answer.

"Yes." Even though in the dream the sky was perfectly clear, not a rain cloud in sight.

The dream puzzled her to no end. She told the pack about it once, Scott got hopeful that it meant something. But after a year of being hopeful about it he just stopped.

Meanwhile Derek would go out at nights with Stiles' father. He'd meet the man at the diner Stiles always liked, they would have dinner where no one would talk, and then they would split up and search the town for anything and everything. Derek and the Sheriff had been close since the kidnapping, and they had only gotten closer after John found out about the supernatural happenings and the real facts about Stiles' disappearance. No one but Peter and Cora knew that he went out every night and did this, or that he secretly looked out for the Sheriff in Stiles' absence. No one really needed to know anyway. It wasn't any of their business what he did or didn't do.

\-----

Now, all these years later, the entire pack was gathered in the Stilinski family home, all standing around the kitchen watching the candles melt and burn down on a cake that wouldn't be eaten. No one ever blew out the candles either; they always just let them melt down to nothing. Maybe it was because they just kept waiting for Stiles to walk through that front door and take his place at the table and blow them out himself.

It had been like that up until the year of Stiles' nineteenth birthday. This time Derek leaned over the table and blew the candles out.


	2. The Found

He couldn’t really remember how he had ended up as he was. He couldn’t really remember much of anything at all. His name… His name was gone. His age was gone. His entire life was gone. His mind ruined and in shambles. Fingers poking and cutting and adding and taking away until everything just seemed to have turned to putty. He does remember being afraid though. He remembers the first time they took him to the room with the machines and big overhead light. He’d been so scared that he’d cried, reduced to begging them to let him go. It was all for naught, though. Nothing he ever did would change anything…

But that wasn’t exactly true anymore. No things had changed, when exactly they had done so he wasn’t sure. All he knew is that there were no more white walls and long hallways. Now there was only cold, heavy rain and bare feet on asphalt. 

\----------------------------------

Officer Nelson was new to the Beacon Hills police force. He’d specifically joined with Beacon Hills for the rumors of how active the town had been with murders and disappearances. Nelson had decided to be an Officer of the law purely for the thrill of the chase. He had dreamed of being like one of those TV detectives since he was a little boy. So when he joined the Beacon Hills force and all he found was a tired and sad town, he was a little let down. Upon his arrival he had been expecting a few unsolved murders or some sort of… Well just about anything to be going on. But it seemed to him that he had arrived just a little too late, and had missed out on all the action. Some would argue that was for the best, but to him it was the missed opportunity for a real case. Handing out tickets all day left much to be desired. So after several months of nothing since he joined, he wasn’t expecting much when he was on his normal patrol of the outer roads about Beacon Hills on a rainy Monday night. 

It was dark that night, usually the moonlight was just enough on the back roads, but with it blocked out by thick rain clouds, it seemed darker and much more ominous than usual. The bright lights of the cruiser lit up the road, windshield wipers cranked up to top speed to keep the flood like rain from obscuring the vision of the officer. It was still a hard to see, though, the officer was forced to slow his speed as he hit large puddles of water that had gathered in the middle and on the sides of the road. Per usual, the road was empty and deserted, the thick woods on either side of it not even offering a flash of reflective deer eyes, as they sometimes did. 

Nelson yawned into his hand, closing his eyes for only a mere second. But a second was more than enough apparently. For when he opened them back up he had to slam on his breaks and jerk the wheel of the cruiser to keep from running straight into whatever exactly had jumped into the road. Once the cruiser finally came to a full stop Nelson looked in his rear-view mirror, checking to see exactly what it was he had almost hit. He suspected it to be a deer or maybe even a large dog. He couldn’t quiet see what it was due to the heavy rain pouring off the top of the car and over the windows. After a moment of resenting the rain he was soon to be soaked in, he grabbed his flashlight and stepped out of the vehicle. 

The officer flashed the bright light over the road and stopped at what he’d almost run over. His brow furrowed upon finding nothing more than what seemed to be a young man standing in the middle of the road. He began to walk closer to the young man, who’s back was turned to him, standing stark still. 

“Hey.” Nelson called out, trying to get their attention. “What are you doing out here in th-“ Nelson cut himself off as he got closer to the boy, now able to see him more properly. 

The boy was completely soaked with the cold winter rain. He wore what seemed to be white cotton pants and a matching shirt. But the white was now stained with dirt and was torn in several places, a bit of blood mixed in with the dirt from scrapes and cuts along the boys arms and neck. One thing that stuck out most to Nelson where the boy’s feet, they were completely bare, and he was certain that if he looked at the soles of the boy’s feet they would be completely shredded and torn, like he had been walking on sharp gravel for days on end. As Nelson stepped even closer to the boy, only a few steps from being able to reach out and touch him, he noticed something worrisome. There was a long, thick scar across the back of the boy’s head, easily visible due to the roughly shaved hair cut he had. As if someone had tried to give him a hurried buzz cut, like doctors would when about to perform surgery. It was then that Nelson concluded that he must have some sort of escaped hospital patient on his hands. He just prayed the kid was just confused, and not completely crazy.

“I think it’s time you got back to where you’re supposed to be, how about you come with me?” The officer asked as he extended a hand to grab the youth by the shoulder in order to turn him around. But just before he was able to touch him, the boy started walking forward. It wasn’t a hurried walk as if he was trying to get away. It was a slow walk, staggering and numb looking. 

Nelson wasn’t very sure what he should do now, not wanting to upset the boy, who he finally decided was probably a mental patient. Nelson hurried back to his cruiser and grabbed his radio. The Sheriff would know what to do. 

\----------------------------------

Within the months following Stiles’ nineteenth birthday, all searches for Stiles had been officially called off and a certificate of death had been issued. A memorial was held a week after the announcement of Stiles’ case being closed. Half the town had shown up to watch a coffin, filled with flowers and mementos from loved ones and friends, be lowered into the ground right next to where Claudia Stilinski laid. Stiles’ head stone was simple, it had his name and his date of birth, but was absent of his death date. 

A few people said a few things after the priest was done with his sermon about saying goodbye for good. The Sheriff was the last to speak. What he said was short and quiet, but it spoke volumes. 

“This is for you, to give you all closure. But it is not for me, I will never have closure.”

After that everyone stopped searching for Stiles. Scott was reluctant at first and found himself awake at night his legs twitching with want to go out and search. The Sheriff still searched, he would always be searching, even on his death bed he’d be searching for his son. The pack for the most part was on the road to moving on, it was slow goings, but it was easier with each other to help them through it. 

Derek tried to stop looking, tried to heal and forget. But it wasn’t possible, all this time he had been so conflicted whenever he thought about Stiles. Before Stiles had gone missing he had felt… Something for him, it wasn’t strong and he wasn’t sure if it had been friendship or something else. But after Stiles being absent from his life for so long, and feeling the empty space left behind by him. Derek slowly began to realize how much he had depended on Stiles to be there. Derek was always so afraid of losing people, but Stiles always seemed invincible to him. Sure Stiles had his fair share of bruises and even broken bones, but he never faced something fatal. He would always say something witty and sarcastic or flash one of his irritatingly stupid grins and brush off whatever near death experience he had faced. Stiles had become a sort of stable being in Derek’s life, even in the short two years they had known each other. Stiles was a constant, and Derek had never imagined him leaving, so when he did leave, it was hard to register and once registered it was still hard to believe. Maybe that was why Derek looked so hard for Stiles. He just needed proof, of his death, or of something. He needed true closure, like the Sheriff did. He would never have closure even if he went on pretending to forget about it all. 

\----------------------------------

Even though the searching stopped, Derek didn’t stop having dinner with the Sheriff every night at Stiles’ favorite diner. They wouldn’t talk unless John started a conversation about Stiles, which wasn’t very often at all. Like all those other silent nights, tonight was much the same. Derek sat in the booth at the back of the diner, across from John. He kept getting lost staring out at the rain hitting the window neglecting to eat much of his food. He couldn’t deny that something felt odd, like a rising anticipation in his gut. As if he was waiting for some grand surprise. He’d always get this feeling whenever it rained, due to Lydia’s dreams about Stiles. In the dream Stiles would say it was raining when asked, even when it wasn’t. Derek had a small hope that it meant Stiles would be found on a rainy day in the future, hopefully alive. 

“You remind me of Stiles when you do that,” John’s voice snapped Derek out of his little daze, looking to watch the man as he spoke. “When he was little he’d always demand we sit at a window seat whenever we went out to eat. He would always sit there and gaze out the window and watch everything like a hawk. I asked him once why he was always looking out of the window so hard and he’d always say that he just wanted to know what was going on outside. He was so curious all the time…” John finished, looking more tired than ever, a mere husk of a man. 

Derek didn’t say anything in response; he didn’t really know what to say. He looked back out the window at the rain, trying to imagine a much smaller Stiles looking out the same window as a child. It was hard to imagine since he’d never seen a picture of Stiles as a kid, he could only imagine him as he was all those years ago. Bright eyed, jittery, blabber mouthed, seventeen years old, he couldn’t imagine him silent and still. 

Before Derek could think too hard on the thoughts in his mind, he heard the Sheriff’s phone ring, watching as the man answered in a tired tone, his enhanced hearing allowing him to clearly hear the person on the other end of the line. 

“Nelson’s out on route 9 says he found some kid walking down the middle of the road not wearing any shoes, looking like some sort of mental patient. You said to call about any suspicious persons, so here’s one for you, making his way at about two miles an hour.” A woman’s voice came through the other end.

“Alright, I’ll head there now, thanks Deb.” John replied before hanging up the phone, finishing up his coffee before standing up and looking down at Derek. “You want to come check it out with me?”

Derek nodded as he stood, paying his part of the bill before following the Sheriff out, each going to their respective vehicles. Derek followed the police cruiser all the way to the other side of town and onto one of the more isolated roads, after a few moments of driving the Sheriff came to a stop beside a cruiser parked on the side of the road. 

“He’s over there.” The man, presumably Nelson, said as he pointed further on down the road with his flash light. The light just barely caught the figure that was slowly moving further and further down the road. 

The Sheriff simply nodded and got out of his car, turning on his own flashlight as Derek also got out and followed John. As they approached the boy Derek inhaled deeply, then again.

“What is it?” John asked as he noticed Derek’s insistent sniffing. 

“I’m not sure… I can’t tell with all this rain but… Something doesn’t seem right…” He answered allowing his claws to elongate just a bit.

John nodded as his hand went to the gun on his hip, not drawing it, but more than prepared to. Once they were finally close enough to the boy to catch a good look at exactly what Nelson had earlier their nervousness only got worse. 

“Son, how about you stop and turn around, slowly.” The Sheriff said, his heart beat steady as a drum.

The boy did indeed stop, but he didn’t turn around at first. He simply stood incredibly still; Derek inhaled once again to see if he was now close enough to catch a proper scent with the rains interference. He knew that scent. 

“John,” Derek reached out and grabbed the Sheriff’s shoulder, but just as he did the young man finally turned around. 

The metallic clang of the flash light hitting the road was the only sound in the sudden silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I keep doing this cliffhanger shit.  
> I'm a horrible person and I love it.


	3. The Betrayed

It was the same exact dream again, she'd had a more times than she could really count anymore. She'd tried to brush the dreams away, to forget about them, even went so far as to start taking pills that would block any and all dreams. It had worked for the last year and a half, Lydia didn't dream anymore and that was alright with her so long as she didn't have to be tormented by Stiles' face every time she closed her eyes. But for some reason, tonight she did dream. 

Lydia was once again standing in the forest, Stiles' standing just a few feet in front of her. It was the same dream that she had had for years, and yet, something was different. Things had changed within the dream. Before the forest had always been placed in the day time, the sky clear and blue and bright, and the ground had been dry. Now the sky was dark and so clouded not even the moon could shine through, the musky scent of rain hung about the dampened forest. But the thing that unnerved her the most about the changes, were the changes to Stiles. Before he had been the spitting image of the last time she'd seen him three years ago, always in his Lacrosse gear and healthy and vibrant. Yet, now he no longer looked anything like his old self, the boy standing before her was more like a wraith than a human being. He wore all white, which only brought out how pale and gray his skin had suddenly become, dark bags hung under vacant eyes. Once shinning brown, now dulled and muddy. He was thin, so impossibly thin that she thought he might crumble into himself, limbs to weak to hold him up anymore. What stood before her wasn't Stiles', he wasn't the happy chatty boy anymore, but a mere ghost of what used to be.

The sky grew darker, it was incredibly hard to see now, if it wasn't for Stiles' white clothing and the ominous feeling of being watched she might not have even known he was there. For once, she was lost as to what to do in the dream. The scenery had changed, as well as Stiles, did that mean her question would change as well? With a shaky breath Lydia parted her lips, and to her dismay the same question tumbled forth. 

“Is it raining?” It was spoken in a mere whisper, she was shaking now, a since of fear and foreboding over coming her and she didn't know why. She watched with anticipation as Stiles' stayed as he was. Usually the answer was always immediate, but for some reason he was taking much longer to answer. They stayed locked in the eerie silence for what felt like an eternity until finally Stiles' chapped and bloodied lips began to move, speaking in a voice that sounded like it hadn't been used in all of those three years. 

“No.”

And then she was drowning. Rain poured from the sky like a broken faucet, it was so heavy it felt like rocks hitting her skin, forcing her to the ground under its weight. The side of her face was pushed into the ground as the rain grew heavier and heavier, she couldn't move. There was so much rain hitting her face, it was like someone was pouring water over her face constantly, she couldn't breathe. She was drowning. She was going to die. And then she woke up.

\-------------------

Everything was so loud and bright and confusing. He wasn't sure where he was anymore, but then again he didn't even know where he had been previously. Walking, maybe, or was he running? It was hard to think through all the buzzing in his ears from the screaming noises. He blinked and blinked, trying to clear the murkiness from his eyes so he could see better. He tried to raise his hands to try and rub at his irritated eyes, but there was someone there grabbing at his arms and pushing them back down. Where was he? He blinked again, swiveling his head around, he was inside a rectangle with shelves and machines. No that wasn't it, he knew the name of it, it was an emergency vehicle. An ambulance, yes that was the name. He was in an ambulance, there were two women there with him, both of them hovering about him and fidgeting with machines and wires and- Something sharp jabbed into his arm, causing him to wince at it. A needle, an IV, medication. The words swirled in his mind like a storm. 

Had he really escaped?

Escaped from where? From the hands and white halls, bright lights, from the cutting and the stabbing. Yes, that was right. No, he didn't think he'd escaped after all, if he had he wouldn't have people poking him with needles again. Well, at least he tried.

Thats all that really counts, isn't it?

\--------------------

John Stilinski followed closely behind the ambulance that now contained his long missing son. How badly he wished to be in the ambulance instead of just driving behind it, but his logical side knew he couldn't leave his cruiser behind, and that he'd might get in the way if he was inside the ambulance. So he just had to grit his teeth and press his foot harder into the gas pedal, willing the ambulance to hurry. That was his boy in there, his boy who was so thin when he'd nearly hugged the life from him. John thought he'd have broken him right on the spot once he realized he was all skin and bones now. Stiles hadn't even looked at him, hadn't looked at anyone, his eyes looking everywhere except at him or Derek or even the other officer. It was like he didn't even realize what was going on. That revelation had been enough to break John's heart all over again. 

His son had been taken from him, and now was returned as nothing more than a broken boy. It made John want to cry, to sob and weep for his son who probably didn't even realize he'd lost anything at all. It made him angry, it made him want to hunt Gerard down and skin him alive, skin anyone who'd put their dirty hands on his boy. His boy. His son. 

John stopped his train of thought, his grip tightened on the steering wheel to the point of his knuckles having turned white. He couldn't think like this right now, right now he needed to focus on getting Stiles help, making sure he was safe and there and real. He'd think about Gerard when things weren't so pressing.

After possibly the longest drive of his life, he pulled into the emergency lane of the hospital right behind the ambulance. He threw the cruiser into park, not even bothering to take the keys from the ignition as he jumped from the vehicle, making sure he was right there when they lowered the gurney holding Stiles from the back of the ambulance. 

Stiles was blinking more than was probably normal, but he seemed to be a bit more coherent at least. He still wasn't look directly at anyone but he did turn to look when John reached forward and gave his hand a squeeze before he was wheeled into the hospital. John followed quickly after them, he met Melissa right at the door, she was caught in a state of shock and worry as she looked between Stiles and John. 

“Is it really him?” She asked with a hesitant voice, it seemed she too could hardly believe any of this was real. 

“Yeah, its him...” Derek had spoken up before John could, finally turning to him John remembered that Derek had been there with him and had followed him to the hospital. 

“Derek, did you tell anyone about this yet?” John asked, specifically meaning the pack.

“No, not yet. I figured you didn't want them here just yet.” Derek said as he finally looked at John, he'd been previously staring down the hall after the group of nurses and doctors that had rushed Stiles away.

“Good. They deserve to know, but not right now, we don't need them here trying to see Stiles so soon. I mean, you saw him... He's just...” John trailed off, he didn't want to admit that Stiles was any different than the day he left, but it was painfully obvious and it couldn't be ignored. 

“He's just, what?” Melissa spoke up, looking between the two for an answer. 

“Gone.” Derek supplied. 

\-------------------

It was one in the morning when Scott got the call, and it was one thirteen when he walked through the door of the Beacon Hills Hospital. His eyes briefly scanned over the haggard or snoozing face in the waiting room before he looked over to the nurses counter, spotting his mother who looked as equally shaken as he felt. He wasted no time in heading over to her, dropping his helmet on the counter, gaining her attention. 

“Scott,” it was spoken like a sigh as his mother moved around the counter and hugged him tightly. Scott couldn't help but hug her back just as tightly, he'd needed this. After a long moment his mother let him go. “Derek's just down the hall, and John is with Stiles now.”

Scott nodded and thanked his mother before turning and quickly making his way down the hall, leaving his helmet at the nurses desk. Sure enough he found Derek, sitting a bit slumped over in one of the chairs in the hall way, his cheek resting against his fist, looking like he was about to fall asleep. But Derek perked up a bit upon Scott's approach, opening his eyes and sitting a little straighter. In the past Scott might have greeted the man with anger and false accusations, if he had even greeted him at all. But now, after the past three years and all they'd helped each other through, he greeted him like he would a friend. 

“Hey, Derek.” He said simply as he took the seat beside him, he looked at the door they both sat in front of. He knew Stiles was in there, he wanted to barge in and hug him for all he was worth, but he knew he couldn't do that. He didn't know if Stiles was hurt badly, or if John was get angry with him. So he tried to still his twitchy fingers by twisting them around one another. “Is he hurt?” He finally dared to break the silence between himself and Derek. 

“Yes, but there isn't anything too serious, mainly just a couple of scratches and cuts. His feet are the worst of it... He didn't have any shoes when we found him.” Derek replied after a moment of thought. 

Scott simply nodded before his next question, his insides suddenly burning to know everything. “Where did you find him?”

“Route 9, earlier tonight. He was just... Walking down the road, a police officer almost hit him and he called John and we happened to be...” Derek paused, he'd still yet to tell anyone besides his family about his and John's meetings every night at the diner, but he figured it didn't matter now. “At the diner together, and I went with him when he got the call... At first we didn't know it was even him, I mean, he doesn't look like- like Stiles anymore.” His eyebrows furrowed, a scowl creeping up onto his face. “He's completely different... When we finally got to see his face he just, he wouldn't look at anyone, it was like we weren't even there to him. He still hasn't looked at anyone. I don't know if its because he doesn't want to look at us, or if he simply doesn't realize we're here at all.” He sighed heavily, scrubbing a hand down his tired face. 

Scott swallowed thickly, it was a lot to take in. He'd imagined at worst Stiles would be different, but not like that. He imagined him scared or angry and hostile, or even maybe acting like a wild animal. But the way Derek described it, it was like Stiles had lost his mind. Like he'd gone catatonic. It was a very scary thought, and suddenly Scott wasn't so sure if he wanted to see his best friend again or not. He didn't want to have to stand in that room and wonder if Stiles knew him anymore. 

Just then, John came from the room, closing the door softly behind him. He looked from Derek to Scott, offering a small pained smile that was meant to be reassuring but really wasn't. 

“He's sleeping now, you can go in if you want. I tried to talk to him about it, but he wouldn't talk to me at all.” He sighed again as he leaned against the wall by the door. “I guess we'll just have to be patient. The doctor said he'll try to get a therapist in by tomorrow.” Scott could only nod at all of this. 

After a long moment he stood, looking at the door for a moment before finally opening it and going inside. He half expected Derek to follow him but when he didn't he just closed the door quietly. He took another deep breath before he actually looked over at the bed where his best friend was sleeping. The sight made him want to cry, and against his own will he did. He hadn't even moved an inch from the door and he was already choking on sobs and trying wipe away the tears. He shakily made his way to the chair by the bed, sitting in it heavily as he reached out and gently laid his fingers against Stiles' thin hand. He was still crying as he spoke. 

“I'm so s-sorry. I'm so sorry. Please-” a sob tore from his throat as he bowed his head, his tears falling onto his pant leg. “Forgive me, for not being a good friend. I should have found you, I-I should have looked harder. I should have never of given up.” The tears only increased, his entire body shaking with sobs and coughing. “I'm so sorry for thinking you were dead, for giving up on you! Please, please, please...” He trailed off in his speech as his crying overruled it, he felt a hand on his shoulder and he knew it was Derek.

He'd given up on Stiles. He'd given in and started trying to forget him. Stiles didn't deserve to be forgotten, how could he betray his best friend in this way, his brother. How could he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha aha ah ha haaaa....  
> so I know I know, I'm an asshole.   
> just set me on fire and throw me in a fucking well because im fucking trash, I know.   
> I really didn't mean to abandon this, but things happened and yea and then I came back and looked at this  
> and wow. I was not expecting it to have like 33 bookmarks and so many kudos like holy shit.  
> So because of its popularity I decided to continue it, now that I once again have the time for it and things are all settled down.   
> So forgive me ; v; please im so sorry


	4. The Mother

_Gently, Stiles._

Her voice was like a warm ray of sunlight against the darkest corners of his mind. The parts of him that had been tainted to the vilest degree, forever ruined by hands and tubes and needles. The parts that would never be clean. But yet, though he knew they would not be washed to sparkle as they had once before, in that moment he felt that perhaps they could become almost so. Her voice always had that effect on him. Making him feel clean and whole again, just with a few words.

_Stiles, you're supposed to be putting the dirt around the flowers, not in your hair._

Her laugh rung out clearly, it was soft and lovely, just as she had been. He had to close his eyes against the light that radiated from her, for fear he would be blinded by such a heavenly woman. But even when his vision swam with the dark of his eyelids, her laugh carried through. It cut through the sludge of his mind with ease and very little effort. It was a welcome comfort, one that brought clarity and burning. The burning of his throat as warmth slipped from tightly closed eyes and dripped from dark lashes that brushed too pale cheeks.

_I love you, Stiles. So very much._

He could still imagine the hard press of her lips against his forehead, in his hair, his cheeks and sometimes his shoulder as he lay slipping into a warm sleep. He could feel that familiar bud of summer opening up in his chest, a feeling that wanted to tumble from his lips and fall gracelessly to the floor. It was a living thing that could only be grown and blossomed by the unending love of a mother for her child and vice verse.

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. It hurt so much to here those words. To feel that love that he'd kept hidden and protected deep within his heart and mind. It hurt because he knew she was not really there. Because her voice only existed now on old vhs tapes of home movies. Her voice now crackled not with emotion but with static, sign that the tape had been played over and over far too many times. Her image so clear once in his mind now shaky from a tremble in his fathers hand when he'd acted as camera man. But the thing that made it all hurt the most was because he had only just now come to realize that he'd completely forgotten her.

There had been so many horrors. Hand and fists and cold floors and straps on beds and electric chairs. He hadn't realized that at some point he'd lost her. That he'd forgotten the sound of her voice and the way it cut through the darkness of his mind and bathed the filthiest parts of him in a hoping and gentle light. He'd completely let the image of her slip away, that too bright light that followed her every move and only dissipated when the sun was hidden away, unable to reflect off her like it would the moon. He'd lost her. Lost her to the hells of that place, to the angry voices and spitting lips. It hurt to know he'd let her slip away so easily, hadn't even put up a fight. And he couldn't apologize to her for it, not like he could with his father, she was gone from this world and would never know how deeply sorry he was to have forgotten her. Forgotten her. Forgotten her. Forgotten.

She didn't deserve to be forgotten. She deserved to be remembered. Something that he was so afraid he couldn't do anymore. He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember her, or his father, or his own name sometimes. It was so _hard_ to hold onto things now, it was just so difficult. And he hated it, hated it, hated it! Hated the looks he received when he stared blankly at faces that should have been familiar. Hated the hurt in their eyes, the hurt and the pity. Hated how he couldn't remember enough words to just say he was _sorry._ He was so sorry.

\-------------------

Derek never left.

He never left the hospital, he knew that he probably should have at some point. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Couldn't pull himself away from the bedside of this broken boy who didn't seem to know himself let alone anyone else. He worried that if he left Stiles would forget him again, just as he'd done with everyone apparently. He was afraid that if he left then so would everyone else and Stiles would be left alone, again. He didn't want Stiles to ever be alone, not for a single moment.

Several members of the original pack had come by in the weeks since Stiles had been rediscovered. Erica had come alone to his surprise, he figured Boyd would have come with her but he didn't push the mater. He'd sat quietly as she had spoken to Stiles. It was obvious that Stiles didn't know her, didn't remember her. He'd looked at her briefly when she'd first spoken to him, but after that he was completely gone again, eyes glassy and ears probably unhearing. But she'd spoken to him nonetheless. Just before she'd left she had urged Derek to go home and sleep, to actually eat something other than vending machine food. But he'd just huffed at her and turned his attention elsewhere.

Boyd came in a few days after her. He didn't say much. He seemed to understand that Stiles was gone from them, and most likely wouldn't be coming back. His visit was far shorter than the others, on his way out he gave Derek an almost concerned look. It had surprised the alpha when Boyd had verbally prompted him to do anything but sit in the hospital. But still, Derek brushed it off and went back to his silent vigil over Stiles from his seat on the windowsill.

Scott came in everyday after school, he'd talk for hours about aimless things to Stiles. His mother or Allison one would have to nearly drag him out at the end of the day, all three of them often left him know he needed to go home and rest. He'd stopped listening to them all together after the first few visits.

Isaac only visited once. He entered the room with a deathly sort of finality. As if it had taken him days- if not weeks- to convince himself to come and see Stiles for himself. Isaac spent the entire hour that he was there standing by the window and looking down at Stiles. He was the only one who remained silent the entire time, even as he left he didn't offer any words to Derek about his unhealthy habit of living in Stiles' hospital room.

Lydia hadn't once come to visit Stiles in all that time. Derek could understand why she wouldn't want to come and stare at the shell of someone she might have once known, but it still sickened him. Stiles wasn't the person they knew before, but he wasn't dead either, he deserved a chance at the least. But Lydia didn't seem interested in giving chances to lost causes so Derek left her be and let the others call and worry over her. She was just one less person to chastise him for staying in the hospital so much.

Despite all the worried words and long looks of concern, Derek did not leave the hospital. He'd only ever leave Stiles' hospital room to hunt for food in the lonely halls or sometimes chance his way down to the cafeteria. Or to have a quick shower in the physical therapy gym locker room, Allison would come by every now and then to give him new clothes and take his old ones to be washed. But other than those things, it was hard to get him to leave. The nurses who came in to check on Stiles had learned early on that it was useless to try and get him to leave the room in those times. He was at some point in his weeks of living in that hospital room that he started to wonder if maybe he should just go home.

The doubt didn't leave him over all his time of being there. He wondered if there was any real point of doing this anymore. Looking over Stiles when he clearly was not even remembered by him. It was difficult to not want to get up and leave right then and there, but after a few more weeks of his patient watching, he was suddenly very glad that he hadn't gotten up and left.

For it was at the end of the fifth week of his hospitalization that Stiles finally came back.

\-------------------

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Derek chanced a whisper to John.

“Its working isn't it?” The man replied with a harsh whisper, he clearly did not have any room for Derek's hesitant words of doubt.

The two men sat in Stiles' hospital room, as they had done many nights and days before. The only difference this time was the presence of a tv, an old one atop a rolling cart that also held a vhs player. It had to be brought in for their uses, as the one of the wall across from the bed didn't have a vhs player attached to it. So the ancient contraction had been wheeled out and into Stiles' room, where John had quickly plugged it in and pushed an old tape into the player. It was only a few moments before the screen flickered to an image other than that headache inducing blue, and voices flowed from the speaker. While John had kept his eyes trained on Stiles, Derek had been caught staring at the screen, much like Stiles himself had.

Both of them watched as a tall and slender woman tended some sort of garden, dirt caked on her hands and a few smudges on her freckled face. Her face seemed to be captured in a smile that only increased when a small child teetered into the view of the camera. Her voice was light and lovely as it spilled from the old tv speakers. This woman was Stiles' mother, Derek was sure of that, which made the small boy now ripping up the flower garden, Stiles. With that realization Derek was content to loose himself forever in the old tape. He'd never so much as seen a picture of Stiles when he was a child, nor had he seen one of his mother. But now that he finally saw her, saw _them_ together as if they were always meant to be that way, it was incredibly hard to look away.

It was John that forced him to look away with a sharp tug on his sleeve. Derek snapped his eyes to the man first before following his frantic gaze to the bed, to Stiles.

Stiles was sitting up, instead of inclined back on the pillows as he normally was. His eyes were big and clear and honey colored with red creeping along their edges. His face was drenched with emotion, and his knuckles nearly white from clenching the white blanket across his lap. Derek couldn't help but think that this was Stiles, this was his Stiles. The Stiles that everyone had come into that hospital room hoping to see once more. Derek very nearly cried at seeing that spark of recognition and understanding that lit up Stiles' eyes.

He and John sat there for must have been not very long at all but felt like an eternity. Neither one of them could tear their gaze from Stiles, who watched the screen and reacted to the sounds and sight of his mother. It was only when Stiles began to cry that either one of them moved. John twitched forward as if to go and comfort his son, but he stopped. They couldn't possibly know if touching Stiles would be the best of options at that moment. Not when he was so open and vulnerable and finally responsive. They didn't want to mess this up, and accidentally send Stiles back into his catatonic state. So it was with great sorrow that they both sat back and watched as Stiles cried himself out and into exhaustion. By the end of the tape Stiles had slumped back into his pillows and blankets, his eyelids drooping low like a sleepy child. He stared at nothing for the longest time and for a solid few moments Derek was gripped by the fear that Stiles was already gone again. But Stiles managed to banish his fear as his eyes slowly slid over to take in the sight of the two men at his bed side, both of them no doubt literally on the edges of their chairs.

Stiles regarded them with a slow blink, his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile, but it was gone so quickly Derek couldn't have been sure. Stiles' gaze lingered on Derek for a long moment before sliding over to his father. John was almost in tears, the simple act of eye contact with his son was enough to send him over as well as the tears. The broken man smiled as best he could at his son, if this was the last time Stiles would ever coherently look at his father, John wanted to make sure he saw something nice on his face. But luckily for John, it didn't seem like this would be the end of those long stares holding emotion and recognition for what Stiles did next filled them with enough hope to last a lifetime.

“Dad...” Stiles' voice was a complete shock to them, and they hung to every hoarse word. “I want to go home.”

John sobbed openly then, all he could do was nod as he finally reached forward and took his son's hand.

“Yes,” John patted Stiles' hand gently. “We'll go home, son.”

Derek stood from his seat. He took a last long look at the tired gaze held between father and son before he turned and exited the room quietly after picking up his bag Allison had brought him. He walked with a long stride down the hall, his face neither smiling nor frowning, he was simply and utterly content. And he continued to be so as he left the hospital and finally, finally made his way home.

Stiles wouldn't need him anymore, and he was alright with that. Because Stiles was there, he was with his father and he was completely aware of it. Stiles didn't need him anymore, not to watch over his bed side and take his pains through black veins in his arms. Stiles was going to be alright.

Stiles wouldn't need him anymore.

And it made Derek ache deep inside to know that.


End file.
